An Arse for An Arse
by WorksofthePress
Summary: Will be a two-shot. Dramione. Non-magical high school AU. Hermione is hurt and pretty visibly upset, and this somehow earns her an invitation to a party at Draco Malfoy's house. Even stranger, it's even kind of fun. I intend for there to be smut in the second half.


Okay, so this should get more interesting in the next part. I intend on it being a two-shot with some angst and some smut, but this chapter is smut-free. I don't know about any of you guys, but I really like a slow build up between Draco and Hermione, so that's all this is. This is a muggle AU, so I would say that Hermione is at least a little OOC and Draco is pretty much completely OOC. But if you do read, thanks!

Ron Weasley was an arse.

Hannah Abbot's blond ponytail was bouncing as she practically skipped down the hallway, her flats clacking quietly on the tile. She was holding the packet of papers in both hands, grinning down at the top page. A large "A" was written in blue marker and circled - her first A on a math test all year! - and she just _had_ to go show her tutor.

Something quite solid slammed against her shoulder and with a large jerk of her arm her test fluttered out of her hands, sliding across the tiles and landing quite a distance away. For a fraction of a second, the body that had hit her paused, and she heard a soft and stuffy "Sorry Hannah," before the figure was gone.

Hermione stomped through the hallway, her giant mess of hair bouncing with every step. Her hands were balled into fists at her sides and her skirt was billowing up with her speed. She was biting the inside of her lip - hard - and the deep scowl of her eyebrows was off-putting (to say the least) to anyone who may have stopped to say hello. From most angles she was the picture of fury, but straight on one could catch the tell tale glittering in her eyes and the redness splotching the tops of her cheeks and tip of her nose. She was doing her best to keep her head down. She was not going to cry in front of anyone else. Her classmates would _not_ see her like this.

To most, Hermione Granger was a force to be reckoned with. She was kind to everyone, incredibly intelligent, unafraid to speak up. She was constantly surrounded by at least four friends, and though they may not have been considered "popular" they were likeable and interesting people. Her clothes were usually plain, but never mismatched, and that alone was enough to be considered at least somewhat stylish among the crowds of all the other 16-to-18-year-olds.

In the yellow flickering light of the silent bathroom, Hermione Granger wasn't looking at any of _that_ in the mirror. She was looking back at her past self - bushy haired, proud, annoying, bucktoothed. No one had wanted to talk to her, she had spent classes silently in the back row, always scoring high on tests and answering questions correctly, but never really conversing with the other kids. She had felt so envious of the others. Guys like Fred and George Weasley had run down the halls followed by what almost seemed like adoring fans. Astoria Greengrass and her long legs had practically been drooled over by all of the boys in her grade and in the lower ones. So many people had walked past Hermione and not even looked at her. The only time she had heard talk of herself between boys, they had been discussing how annoying she was.

She should have been past it by now. She should have felt like middle school was a different lifetime. She should remember that her friends now wouldn't take advantage of her like people had back then, that she looked at least a little better, that her life was going well.

But all she could see in the mirror was how disappointed she had always been in herself. How she had worked so hard and never felt like people appreciated it. How that lack of appreciation had made her wonder if her hardest work had actually been mediocre, even worthless. How that work, among her lack of friends, had felt like all she had. And if it had been worthless, was she too?

The tears were flowing and she couldn't stop them. She sucked in air and it sounded like a mix between a hiccup and a gasp. With a hard swallow, she escaped into a stall and locked it, just in case anyone came inside. She felt awful enough, no one should see her like this.

Over the past year and a half, she had really come into herself. She had made friends with Hannah Abbot first, mainly through Neville. Neville was one of the only people that had always seemed to like being around her, even when she was an annoying little know-it-all. Things had been tense for Hermione at first, becoming friends with Hannah. She was always scared of not being enough for such a nice girl who had so many friends. Surprisingly, though, they had clicked pretty well. Through Hannah, Hermione met Harry and Ron, and eventually Ginny. As time went on, surrounded by people who seemed to like her, she finally felt safe liking herself.

When Ron had asked her to the prom junior year she had been thrilled. She learned to tame her hair and her mom helped her pick out a dress. People that she had seen in passing suddenly knew her name, suddenly called out to her to say hi. It had felt amazing. And then, during a slow dance, while her heart was pounding and her body was warm and she finally felt like she belonged somewhere, Ron had asked her to dance and held her close. Their steps were clumsy and they laughed together at themselves, him smiling down at her while his red fringe hung in front of his eyebrows and colorful lights flashed intermittently in the background. And he had kissed her, and his lips were large and soft and it was brief but nice.

Later that night, he had dropped her off at home. He hadn't pressed for anything more, other than another quick peck before he left her doorway. It had been sweet and perfect and she had leaned her back against the door and smiled to herself for several moments before toeing off her shoes and going down the hall to her room.

As the months went on, Ron was lovely. Mostly. He was busy with soccer, sure, and Hermione knew that it was his real dream to play with the pros someday. It may have been kind of a silly goal, but he really was pretty good, and more importantly his family had connections. There were some weeks where she would only see him in passing while he was busy mornings and afternoons with practice, and during those days she sometimes worried that he didn't seem to care too much that he wasn't seeing her. But he would always make it up with a sweet dinner at the end of the week and apologies galore. And she was really happy. Mostly.

They became quite serious, and one dark night when her parents were out of town Ron had come to visit and stayed the night. As far as that went, Hermione was very happy. She really did love sex.

But flashbacks end, and she came back to the bathroom stall she was currently hiding in, her hand held over her mouth to stifle the whimpering sobs. The bell rang for class, and her heart beat a little harder for anxiety but she decided to explain it to Flitwick later. After all, he really liked her as a student, and if she just waited for this last class period to end she would probably still be splotchy from the tears. She would offer to make up the assignment and he would excuse her absence.

It was Ron Weasley's birthday. She had bought him flowers, thinking the gift would be silly and cute. She had another gift for him back at her home, but this seemed like a good pick-me-up for his day.

School had an open-campus policy for lunch, so students could leave the property. Hermione had rushed out to her car and walked, flowers in hand, back to their usual table. All her friends were there, but no Ron. Ginny and Harry had no idea where he was. She knew him pretty well, so she figured on such a nice day he might be out on the soccer field, so she hurried outside.

She was right about the soccer field.

At first she thought it was one of his brothers. It could be, right? Right?

It wasn't.

He was holding Lavender Brown, her wavy blonde hair up in a high ponytail, her long tan legs visible under her neon shorts. He was holding her. He was leaning down.

And he was kissing her.

"Hermione?" The voice, though it was quiet and sweet, made her jump. It was Hannah. Hermione stayed quiet, hoping she would leave. But that wasn't Hannah. Instead, the shorter girl stopped outside of the stall that the brunette was hiding in. She could probably see Hermione's shoes.

"Hermione, I know you're in here. Ginny told me you ran out of lunch and didn't come back earlier today, and Harry said you were really quiet in physics. What's going on?" Her voice rose in pitch with worry.

Hermione had to take a few deep breaths. She felt like she was choking on them, and she kept breathing deeply until it felt normal to speak around the knot in her throat. She unlocked the stall and pulled the door open. Hannah gasped as she took her in.

"Oh my god, what happened?"

And she kept her tears from falling while she talked about the birthday and the flowers and even through the word "Ron". But she wavered at "Lavender" and the tears fell at "holding her and they were kissing". Hannah had a hand clasped over her mouth, her pretty big blue eyes wide and shining with empathy-tears (Hermione had never understood how easily Hannah could cry, but she did adore the girl so she tried to be supportive about it).

Hermione found herself wrapped up in a hug for several minutes as she let the sobs go and prayed in the back of her mind that no one else would come in. When she finally pulled back, Hannah looked as if she had been crying too. She put her hands on Hermione's shoulders and looked at her seriously.

"Hey. Hey this... this is shit. That boy is filth. But Flitwick is making a big deal of you being gone and you'll be mad at yourself if you miss an entire class for this. You know it."

With a deep breath, Hermione nodded. She was quiet and still as Hannah pulled out her makeup bag and hid the evidence of both of their tears.

Flitwick taught advanced history, but since the end of the year was coming the class had dissolved into more of a discussion period of old documents. Hermione stopped at his desk as she entered the room and whispered an apology over the sound of turning pages and murmuring students. She asked if she could explain herself after class, and with a curious look Flitwick nodded and handed her a chapter review worksheet.

Since she was late, the seating arrangement had moved around some. The class was a very relaxed one and there was no specific seating chart, so every so often there were subtle shifts. Usually, Hermione sat between Harry and Neville, but the two were next to each other today so Hermione had to sit to Neville's right, between him and another student.

She had been worried about this exact thing.

Draco Malfoy was an arse. At least, she thought so. Sometimes. Sure, at other times he was clever, and for the most part they were civil to each other. Deep deep down, where she didn't want to admit, Hermione thought he was gorgeous. And she didn't want to explore those thoughts, so she often elected to sit away from him and distract herself.

As she lowered herself into her seat, she let her backpack slump onto the floor. Neville and Harry gave her confused looks, but she waved them off and they went back to their discussion of the chapter.

She had already read this. Hermione Granger was always ahead on the chapters, it made class easier and it helped her test grades. And today she was extra glad for it, because she seriously could not apply herself. She hauled the giant book out of her back and flipped to the chapter, skimming for specific details.

"So, I assume you already know all of the answers." She let her eyes wander over to him. He was leaning back against his chair, one elbow laying across the back of it. His t-shirt was plain and grey and she definitely did not notice his biceps or lean body more because of his pose. No, sir.

She sighed shortly, almost like a laugh. "Yeah I guess I do."

"Feel like helping a guy out?" His voice was soft. Flitwick allowed group work, but the students knew that if the noise got to be too much he would assign them something much worse. Speaking softly worked in Draco Malfoy's favor. His voice was deep enough that every so often his murmurs sounded rumbly as his pitch fell.

"You need help?" She turned her head to look at him fully, one cheek resting against her fisted hand. One of her eyebrows was raised. He wasn't often one to ask for assistance. For a troublemaker, Malfoy was actually a great student. In the few times that they had spoken, Hermione had figured out that the prat had a pretty great memory and learned quickly.

Usually, talking to Draco had her on edge, sitting straight and trying to look relaxed. Today, though, she felt exhausted and spent. She couldn't be bothered anymore by what he might think of her, no matter how hot he was. Ron had just broken her heart.

He chuckled lowly, the gravelly sound coming from his chest, a tiny smile on his face. He still managed to look bored, though. He always looked bored and unaffected. "It seems like I do. Could just be the phrasing. Question nine?"

She skipped forward a few questions to look at what was bothering him.

"Hm. Yeah, that is a little weird. I think it means... Here, this paragraph..." She scooted closer to him and pointed to a spot in his book. "I think this is what he's asking about specifically, not just like the subject in general, you know?"

"Mm." He nodded. His arm came back down and he bowed over his paper, beginning to write. Hermione thought he looked better like that, showing off the muscles in his back and working diligently. She liked the way he looked when he was concentrating, those light blond eyebrows furrowed, casting his eyes in a bit of shadow.

She got back to work, writing lazily. When she looked up at the clock, she was taken by surprise. She really didn't have much time left. Maybe she could stay after class to finish, as it was last period. She didn't think Flitwick would go for that though, and she sighed, slouching back over her assignment and trying to write fast.

"Coming in late may have not been the best choice today." She looked up again, unable to help herself. She felt so careless, even about her assignment. And Draco Malfoy was smiling at her, a teasing half-smile, and she wanted to look at him, damn it.

She tried for a small laugh. Her throat was a little scratchy and she could hear it. "Yeah, this one's harder than they usually are."

He nodded. "Want a hand?" He pushed his paper closer to her.

She was a bit taken aback. "You're done?"

"Yeah. I was here the whole time, you know." Another chuckle.

"Ha. Uh, yeah. Thank you," she sounded confused and surprised even to herself, but she pulled the paper over and began to write. He had his chin in one hand and was staring off into space as she wrote. ( _Group work and similar answers are allowed,_ she reminded herself.)

She slid the paper back to him. Now she was done early, which was nice, as she would like nothing better than to stare into space herself. As he took it back, he caught her eye.

"So what was going on that made you so late?" She tensed.

"Oh, nothing big. Just... had to grab something."

She wasn't the smoothest of people in the whole world, and he seemed to get the message that it wasn't a topic she was interested in sharing, so he just nodded to himself.

"Big plans for the weekend?" he continued. She was confused, to say the least. Since when did Draco Malfoy talk to her like this? They were friendly, sure, at least in a polite manner. She could consider him an acquaintance probably. But he wasn't exactly someone that you got to know easily, and she wasn't exactly the kind of person that she expected he much liked to talk to.

"No, actually. Probably just studying for finals."

He snorted at that and she glared back, though there was no real malice in her look. She had expected him to react that way.

"And what, you're going to be off having the time of your life?"

He cracked another smile at her. "Eh, probably not. Could be. I _am_ having a party this weekend."

"Oh, sounds fun. Like, something big?"

"Yeah, pretty big. You should come."

She looked at him with unmasked incredulity. He simply met her gaze evenly, still smiling his bored smile, still filling out his plain grey t-shirt.

"I mean it," he finally continued. "You seem like you need to relieve some stress." He pulled a notebook out of his backpack and tore out a scrap of paper, scribbling something down on it.

He handed it to her. It was an address.

It was _his_ address.

"Bring a friend if you want. The more the merrier. And if you decide not to come, please," he had turned and was looking at her from the side of his eye, "don't call the police on me, yeah?"

That earned a laugh.

"Alright, alright. You're right about the stress, I guess. Um. Maybe I'll drop by"


End file.
